The Pirate and the Pagan (21 page)

S
ir John Grenvile, newly created Earl of Bath by His Majesty, strode from the iron-studded front door to greet his old friend. His eyes widened as he saw the beautiful vision in primrose and a familiar voice said, “Jack, I decided to take you up on your invitation. Stowe will be a perfect setting for our honeymoon.”

Summer was almost panting, as if she had run down the driveway, and Jack Grenvile took possession of both her hands and took the liberty of a kiss upon her cheek. My God, Helford married was more than a mild shock. However, he had no need to look to the lady’s waistline to see if it was a marriage of necessity, for it was clear the beauty had only just been introduced to amour and the insatiable demands of a bridegroom by her blushes and gasps.

Ruark winked at his friend over his bride’s shoulder. “We were wed only last night. Jack, this is my wife, Summer.”

She tried to curtsy, for she knew he was an earl, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember how to correctly address an earl. It was definitely not “Your Earlship.” Jack held her hands firmly and would not let her curtsy. “You dog, wait till Bunny sees her. Come in, nearly everyone’s here but the King.”

They followed their host into the great hall and Summer pinched Ruark to get his attention and whispered, “Is Bunny his wife?”

Ruark’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “No, love, Bunny is his brother, Bernard Grenvile.”

She was mortified to see the great gathering of cavaliers and fashionable ladies in the great hall, especially with her stockings and garters in Ruark’s pocket. She cast him a look of outrage, but his grin only widened.

Then suddenly she became the center of attention as the introductions were made and the news spread that she was a brand-new bride. The magnificently dressed cavaliers swept off their wide-brimmed hats, sweeping the carpet with their plumes as if she were a queen. Each declared, “Your servant, madame” or “My services, madame” with gallantry and appraising eyes.

The respectable wives present received her warmly because she was wife rather than mistress and the fashionable women of the court who had slept with most of the men who had endured exile in France with Charles came to speak with her because she was beautiful and obviously competition.

It was impossible for her to remember names or titles, so she gave up trying to take it all in at once. She did absorb some of it. Lord Buckhurst was the youngest male present. The Grenvile brothers had auburn hair, and the good-looking man of about fifty was George Digby, the Earl of Bristol.

She was introduced to Sir Charles Berkeley, Harry Killigrew, and Henry Jermyn, but she couldn’t tell one from the other. Summer had a much easier time with the Cornwall families, probably because of their accents and because their clothes weren’t as flamboyant as the Londoners’.

She met the Arundells, who owned Pendennis Castle, Richard and John Carew from Antony, and Sir Richard Robartes, an extremely wealthy merchant and banker who made his money in the tin trade. These were the old, noble families of Cornwall, whom she had never in a million years dreamed she would ever meet.

She was fascinated by Sir John St. Aubyn, who had bought St. Michael’s Mount, a place in her mind akin to Mount Olympus. He told her how at high tide it became an island and had originally been a monastery which had stood there for over five hundred years.

She met Lady Anne Carnegie and Elizabeth Hamilton and learned from them that Barbara Palmer, newly created Lady Castlemaine, had arrived with an entourage of attendants but had retired for the afternoon. The King was in Plymouth with the
Duke of Buckingham and the Scottish John Lauderdale and they wouldn’t be arriving until tomorrow.

The men crowded round Summer, offering to show her the pond, the medieval dovecote, and the great gallery with its magnificent plasterworks decorating the long ceiling, vividly depicting stories from the Old Testament, which had made Stowe famous.

Finally, Ruark’s scowls and black looks informed the eager men that if his wife needed escorting anywhere, he would do it and at the moment the only place to which he intended escorting her was to their private bedchamber.

The room assigned them on the third floor was elegantly appointed with gold brocade window curtains and bedhangings. The carpet was worked in blue and gold and the furnishings looked as if they had been brought over from France. “Oh, how lovely,” cried Summer when she walked in. A gilt slipper bath stood in one corner behind an ornate screen and a tall wardrobe with mirrored doors stood next to it.

“If this is more to your taste than our bedchamber at Helford, feel free to redecorate, darling. I suppose my room is furnished in very masculine taste.” He was being indulgent with her and she loved him for it.

“To tell you the truth the only thing I saw last night was you, Ruark,” she said, blushing. They were not yet alone. A maid and a manservant had been provided for them by their host and they busied themselves unpacking and hanging the clothes in the wardrobe. Servants always knew everything about guests by way of gossip, for they were in a position to know intimate secrets. The man and girl knew this couple was honeymooning and worked rapidly so that they could be left alone for a couple of hours. The manservant brought a decanter of wine and glasses and the maid drew the curtains and turned down the bed, murmuring about an afternoon nap, then they discreetly withdrew.

Summer threw wide the curtains to let in the afternoon sunshine, saying with scorn, “Naps are for babes and old people.”

Ruark’s arms slipped about her from behind and fastened beneath her breasts. “I think ‘nap’ is just a euphemism, darling, for other things we will do in bed.”

“Oh,” she said, realizing her naïveté. “But won’t we be expected downstairs? I know our host and hostess must have all sorts of things planned for our entertainment.”

“Nothing as entertaining as what I have planned,” he said, nuzzling her neck and biting her small ear.

“But Ru, if we don’t go back down, they will guess what we are doing up here.”

“Exactly! And every last one of them will be green with envy.” His hands cupped her breasts and pulled her back against his body so that she could feel he was ready for love. “Leave the drapes open, my darling, the first time I take you in broad daylight I want to see your body flush with passion.” He turned her from the window and took her in his arms.

The intensity of his kiss gave evidence of his starved senses. Her eager hands helped him as he undressed her then aided in his own disrobing. Each time she glimpsed their naked bodies in the tall mirrors, shards of excitement stabbed through her until the hunger of her loins became insatiable.

With a growl of passion he lifted her high then brought her slowly down his body. His crisp mat of hair rubbed first her thighs, then her mons and belly, and finally her soft round breasts as her body slid down his. He brought her down directly onto his up-thrusting shaft, impaling her with pleasure, then with his hands cupped beneath her buttocks he walked directly up to the mirror so that she could watch what he did to her. He played out the penetration game to its limit, knowing it was one of the most pleasurable parts of love play for a woman, then he carried her to the bed so that his body could fulfill its purpose.

Ruark’s mouth was unbearably tender as he kissed her face, lingering on her eyelids and along her lovely slanting cheekbones, then his mouth found hers and he began to kiss her less gently. Gradually his mouth became demanding, punishing with urgent hunger.

Summer knew he had been denied too long. She reached down toward his hardness.

“Don’t!” he ordered. “I’ll spill myself on you.”

His words aroused her further, knowing, as she did, that her hands could drive him as wild as his did her, and make him lose control of himself. Then all thought vanished with the impact of his hungry lovemaking and she learned the devastation of his possession when it was urgent and fierce and frantic.

When he was finished with her, she was only a heartbeat away from semiconsciousness and she fell deeply asleep in his arms.

*   *   *

After a small knock the maid entered their bedchamber and Summer scrambled behind Ruark and peeped over his shoulder.

“I weel draw your bath, madame,” the little maid said in her French accent. “If you weel tell me which gown you weel wear tonight, I can do your hair verry special to match, no?”

“No,” said Summer.

“Yes,” said Ruark.

The maid set the fresh sheets she was carrying on a small table beside the bed, and Summer blushed hotly at the fact that the maid had known the bed would need changing after their lovemaking.

Ruark said, “Madame will wear her white gown tonight as befits a bride.”

“Oh, Ru, ’tis so plain, did you not see the gorgeous brocades and satins the ladies wore downstairs? And that was just for afternoon. Imagine what they will wear tonight!”

“Sweet love, wear the white for me tonight and tomorrow I’ll buy you a dozen brocades and satins,” he promised.

The manservant brought them a light meal on a tray, for the formal dinner at Stowe would not be served until eight. The maid took out a busk for Summer to wear beneath the lovely white organdy and it made quite a difference to her appearance. The short, tight little corset forced her breasts high and took two inches off her waist. Then the maid showed off her skills as a hairdresser. She arranged kiss curls about Summer’s face and swept the rest up into a style known as “Heartbreaker.” When her dress was carefully donned, more than half of her beautiful breasts were exposed and she called Ruark to put on her rubies so she could gauge his reaction.

He was wearing midnight blue satin breeches and his arousal at the sight of her was quite visible. “Is it necessary to expose your breasts in that fashion?” he asked, frowning.

“Mais oui,
” assured the maid, “thees way no one weel whisper that they are false.”

Ruark took up the ruby necklace and smiled into Summer’s eyes. “There’s not much point in wearing these … no one will even notice them.”

“Oh, darling, I’d feel naked without them.”

“You would be naked without them,” he teased.

She slipped the bracelets up her arms and admired her reflection in the looking glass.

His lips brushed her ear. “I’ll have to buy you some more jewels.”

“No, Ru, you’ve already been too generous,” she protested.

“I’m very vain about my wife. I enjoy giving you jewels and trinkets. Let me spoil you. Come on, I want to show you off downstairs.”

“Can we look at the gardens first?” she pleaded, slipping the ribbon of her fan over her arm.

He fastened a slim sword on his hip. “I might need this to keep the men away from you. They’ll be jumping out from behind every bush.”

The magnificent ivy-covered home of the Grenviles stood in a two-hundred-and-fifty-acre park. Its gardens were on many different levels as they descended the valley below the house, and contained ponds, rills, old yew hedges, terraced flower borders, and trees which bloomed in their turn every month of the year—from camellias, azaleas, and magnolias to the great copper beeches which shaded the walks.

All the ladies had decided to view the gardens at the same time and had persuaded the gentlemen to escort them, but none would venture beyond the stone walks for fear of soiling their fancy evening slippers. None, that is, except Summer, who took her husband’s hand and led him to the more lush and secluded garden paths. They came upon a small spring with mossy walls which opened up into a brook with floating wildflowers. Summer was enchanted by it. “Oh, Ruark, could we have a water garden?”

He pulled her into his arms. “You may have anything you desire.”

She sighed blissfully and leaned against him. She loved him very much and knew just how lucky she had been to find such a generous and loving man, who was going to take care of all the worries that had dogged her young years. She felt she had been kissed by the gods!

On the way back they stopped in at the cider house and shared a loving cup. It was so strong she pretended to stagger and he offered to carry her. She shook her head, laughing. “We’d cause a scandal. Wives aren’t supposed to love their husbands, ’tis unfashionable. You had better pick a lady to receive your attentions at dinner. The lovely Lady Castlemaine perhaps?”

“She’s no lady,” he said low, giving her his undivided attention. “She’s too overblown for my taste and another drawback with
Babs is her fecundity. All Charles has to do is throw his breeches on the bed and she’s up the stick.”

By this time they had reentered the house and there across the room was the woman they were discussing. Summer couldn’t stop laughing. He bent his lips to her ear. “She’s also …”

Summer gave him a sharp slap with her fan and hissed, “Ruark, stop!”

Barbara Castlemaine swept across the room to them. She wore a wine-colored gown in the identical shade of dark red as her hair. The gown was the latest fashion, split down the front to expose a gold-tissue petticoat, and the sleeves were decorated with yards of gold ribbon. She wore a necklace and matching ear bobs of golden topaz.

“Helford,” she drawled, “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” She was looking Summer up and down critically, thinking the white gown ridiculously missish, but the rubies were not to be dismissed lightly.

Ruark’s manners were faultless. He bowed low and said, “My Lady Castlemaine, may I present my wife, Lady Summer St. Catherine Helford?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Ruark Helford married? Since when?”

“Since last evening at this hour,” he said.

Summer flushed and fanned herself furiously.

A little pigeon to be plucked, thought Barbara. She smiled archly at the bride. “I believe we already have something in common, besides our taste in men, of course. Obviously we both like jewels. I’ll enjoy a game of trick track with you after dinner.” Then Henry Jermyn approached and Barbara took his arm and swept off.

“She wanted me to think you’d slept with her,” said Summer furiously.

“Yes,” said Ruark.

“Yes?” repeated Summer hotly.